


Your secret is safe with me

by theotherella



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Has Magic, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders is a Good Friend, Card Games, Con Artists, Con artist Deceit Sanders, Con artist Virgil Sanders, Cuddling & Snuggling, Deceit Sanders is Bad at Feelings, Deceit Sanders is a Good Friend, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, The friendship is good, The love? Well..., Trust, Walking and talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:01:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23392933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theotherella/pseuds/theotherella
Summary: Declyn and Virgil are the ultimate duo when it comes to close-up magic and its use in cons - and that's as much Delcyn's skill as Virgil being an actual mage on the run from the army.As the two travel around the country through each season, their familiar dynamic begins to shift with the weather.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Deceit Sanders
Comments: 13
Kudos: 122





	1. Clubs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jinx72](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinx72/gifts).



> Edited and titled by the wonderful BitterlyJittery - who is familiar with what snow feels like! And has a keen eye for flow and characterisation.
> 
> Also - I now realise this is the third story I've written involving Deceit falling in love with his partner in crime. 
> 
> Embarrassing for him, I guess.

“Is this your card?” Declyn flicked his fingers to display the four of clubs.

The woman leaned back on her chair with a creak. “My baby sister could do better close-up magic than that.” She raised her eyebrows at the tent hung with yellow and black awnings and faintly mystical sigils before settling with particular disgust on Declyn himself. He was decked out in a pastiche of the outfits of the Royal Wizardry, the private army of the king any mage was required to join by law. It wouldn’t have been convincing even if they weren’t usually stationed at the palace. But the deception wasn’t meant to be seamless; he was clearly a charlatan. 

The sound of the rest of the fairground was barely faded, people chatting, singing, and cheering like a pack of wild animals. 

He gave her a brittle smile. “Is it, good lady?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Very good,” Declyn said, lingering over the words as he reached for another deck of cards. He shuffled it without looking, the cards falling back and forth and crossing around his hands. For a moment, he let go, and the cards kept on shuffling. He took her palm and laid it face-up on the table. To the woman’s credit, if the cards moving by themselves were surprising to her she didn’t show it. “Now. Let’s get down to the real business, hm?” 

“Going to tell me I’m going to find a tall, dark and handsome husband?” she said derisively. 

Declyn nodded as he bent over her hand. “Oh, _ totally _ , that is the classic line and I always follow it-” Then he looked behind her, whip-quick. He squinted at the air. “Oh. Oh, but this is very interesting. You’d like a tall, dark and handsome husband, wouldn’t you, a certain...Jake, is his name isn’t it?” 

She shifted uncomfortably, but she couldn’t pull her hand from his fingers encircling her wrist. “Who told you that?”

He waved his other hand into the air as a smirk snaked across his face. “Magic, good lady. Nothing more.” 

“Will he-” she bit her words off. “Someone must have gossiped.”

Declyn tilted his head. “Will he what?” He put on a sympathetic frown. “Will he love you back?” 

“If you were really a mage you’d be arrested by now,” she said with a toss of her head. A blush stole over her cheeks; her eyes didn’t meet Declyn’s; her pulse was rushing where his fingers touched it. Numbers and people, those were the only things Declyn knew how to read and they gave him more information than a thousand citadels of books. 

He hummed noncommittally. 

Screams rose outside before being suddenly cut off. He suppressed a flicker of irritation at having to work with this noise, let the moment stretch, and...

“So? Do you know if he likes me?”

Based on the way Jake was hanging over the bar every moment this woman’s coworker was serving… “I’d say no.” 

Her face crumpled into anger. “Why you-”

“Ah, ah, ah!” He held up a single finger. “He doesn’t like you  _ yet. _ ” 

“What the fuck are you talking about you-”

Declyn reached into the shadows of the tent and plucked a bottle of coloured liquid from them. “I had a feeling you would visit.” The candles flickered as a breeze stirred the tent. Their light made the bottle almost look as though it glowed from within.

She couldn’t look away from it. Five gold pieces had been the plan… should he stretch to ten? 

“Of course, there is a price… perhaps-” 

The tent disappeared. Declyn blinked for a moment at where it had been, then at the crowd whispering and cackling at the sight at him, then at the people in the same robes as him but which looked incredibly  _ genuine _ surrounding him with their hands outstretched like they were about to attack-

He slowly broughts his arms down and put them parallel along his stomach, fists turned against his body in a gesture which in an actual mage would have meant the only person he could shoot at was himself. “Ah! Respected mages!” He put on a smile which suggested that, if he had magic, sweet wildflowers would grow wherever he stood. “Come to enjoy the fair, I see?”

“Are you a mage?” the leader barked at him. Authority was carried in every line of her body, from the proud arch of her neck to the tense stance she stood in, like a lioness ready to pounce.

Declyn weighed his life over his profits. He took a moment too long to admit, “No. I’m a performer. Some skill in reading people, a love of close-up illusion, you get the picture-”

“People of Goodwyn,” she said loudly. “Have you any proof of this man being a mage?”

The woman raised her hand nervously to point at his card deck. “He can make it move without touching it.” 

Rolling his eyes, Declyn picked them up again and began to shuffle them, then drew them out to show a thin thread connecting them which was clearly visible in the strong sunlight. He wove his hands across each other to show how he manipulated the thread. Unlike earlier, his hands never left the end cards. 

“He wouldn’t stoop to that if he had magic-” one of them said to the leader. 

“If he was dodging service? He’d stoop to anything,” the leader said. 

Declyn gave her a brittle smile, biting back comments about the nobility of murder and being used as the pawns of a tyrant king, about the reasons a person might not want to be a living weapon- but they were words in defense of someone who would be best served if he kept his mouth shut. “I repeat my deepest apologies for my insolence. Now, if you would return me my tent, respected mages, I shall be on my way.” 

With a wave of her hand, the leader brought back the tent neatly folded. “I’d leave this fair, were I you. You’re an embarrassment to yourself more than you are to our fine institution. Magic is not a toy, and you are out of line.” 

“I’m glad to have a reminder of my place,” he said with a wide, insincere smile. He swept everything on the table up in the velvet cloth and tied the top. “A simple person without magic such as myself forgets.” The table collapsed with a bang and he slung it over his back with two leather straps he’d attached to the base. The chairs folded, the tent could be carried slung over his arm. The illusion was broken, clear as anything. He held the chairs out at an angle from him as he walked past, forcing the mages back out of his path, and he let the bottom of the table drag along the grass, flattening it. A little petty, but what could they expect? 

More than anything, he wanted a final quip about Jake to the woman, a smooth exit line, and he would have dared it if he was alone. But the chairs were a barrier, the grass was flattened so it wouldn’t show footsteps, and those simple tricks were one of the less graceful flourishes in the most elaborate and longest-running con of his. 

Invisible as he had been in the tent when he moved the cards, swirled the breeze, handed Declyn the bottle and read the cards over the woman’s shoulder, a true mage followed Declyn out to safety. 

What better place to hide than with someone who any accusations against would look ridiculous?

And how better to scam people with magic than adding a real mage to your battery of card-tricks, illusion, and ability to read people? 

*

The road stretched out over the horizon through green stretching in every direction. Tufts of grass sprung up in the dirt road, blowsy white flowers lay sprinked like spilled popcorn in the fields, the smell of dust and wild garlic and the unrepentant blue of the sky arching above them anchored the two travellers into the moment. Fat drops of fuzz buzzed through the air, bumblebees similarly intent on their destination. The men’s backs were bowed with the weight of their possessions, and the one-two scuff of their feet in time beat a familiar pattern. 

There wasn’t silence between them; that space was too filled with birdsong, chirping insects and the occasional exhale as one adjusted the heavy pack on his back.

Declyn didn’t look as striking outside of his fake robe, he was of medium height, medium build, and had hair and eyes the same colour as the road. The mage also didn’t have an appearance which might have betrayed his identity, not in the same way the leader’s confident posture might have. He was dark-haired, dark-eyed, and heavy eye-bags gave him a look of perpetual exhaustion. That exhaustion was most often directed at the partner in his illegal double-act. 

When Declyn had run into him fresh out of running from the army, he’d been a mess of sharp angles and edges, eyes never able to stay in one place or meet another person’s, skittering between attacks of insult and defenses of overdone apology. Now, he could be hardly described as relaxed, but he could fall into playful banter or slow contemplation with Declyn easily, or their winding, passionate conversations which tried to set everything right in a society they existed in the periphery of. Rest, hearty inn food, being less anxious and not pushing his magic as much had rounded out the edges of his face and body. 

Declyn watched as Virgil scrunched his face up and tilted it into the sun, leaving his eyes closed longer than he’d be comfortable with if he were anxious. Once Virgil had blinked his eyes back open, it seemed now would be as good a time as any to bring up the raid. 

“Thank you for following me out, Virgil, I do appreciate you not trying anything hasty. Fireballs are not as much your forte as invisibility.” 

“That was one time!” Virgil protested. “I’m not the one who got us run out of town for somehow finding a real truth serum to sell the mayor.” Declyn knew he wasn’t annoyed as his tone would have suggested to someone else.

“Now that it’s over, we can laugh about it!” Declyn said. “The admission he was hoarding grain really did cause such consternation! Nothing so exciting had happened in that little town for years.”

“We could laugh if I didn’t almost get an arrow in the ass,” Virgil grumbled, but the corners of his mouth were twitching up despite himself. His low voice and withdrawn expressions were only intimidating five minutes into meeting him, Declyn thought. After that, they were practically endearing. 

“Oh, of course, of course,” Declyn said, voice dripping with sarcasm. The effect was lost because he, too, was smiling. Encounters like the one earlier could really spook Virgil, and he was glad this one hadn’t as much. 

One-two, one-two. They didn’t even notice how in time their footsteps were.

“You did a good job,” Virgil said. “They were idiots, not High Command, and that helped a lot. But you weren’t too bad.”

“Why, thank you, Virgil,” Declyn said archly. “I shall remember your effusive compliments for the rest of my days.”

“Course you will,” Virgil said. He tilted his face into the sun once again. “This weather would be nice if it didn’t make you so fucking sweaty.”

“Strike two for being charming. I feel I might just swoon away.”

“You’re the silver-tongued one of the group - as you keep telling me they called you in your home city.” Virgil teased. “So you should be doing the flirting.”

“They also said I was cold-hearted.” Declyn’s face twisted into a pantomime of disgust. “Rue the day I flirt with you.” 

They laughed together, the noise swooping over the birdsong and buzzing insects, a natural part of the summer landscape. 

“The thought of you being in one of those little squadrons is bizarre,” Declyn said. “You’re so not a team player.”

“Yeah, not a huge fan of groups,” Virgil said. “Or leaders. Or orders.” He shrugged. “Or the group hating you for not following cruel orders, but that’s just the way of that kind of structure, isn’t it?” 

A rebellious village who wouldn’t pay taxes after a poor harvest; being pushed into formation by his leader; the order to burn and destroy what the crown couldn’t have- 

a deluge of water to put it all out which shocked them so much they didn’t trace it to Virgil until he was invisible and untraceable in the woods. 

“It’s best to work alone, this we both know well,” Declyn said. He’d struck off alone when he was just barely sixteen, leaving the crowded city he’d been born in where his cup games and card tricks had to jostle with hundreds of others scratching and pushing for a living, heading for the novelty of the mountains and travel. Even before, he’d been a solitary child- how much that was a choice and how much he’d driven away other children in his deceitful schemes and scheming deceits was a matter of interpretation between him and them. He was always wanting, wanting, wanting, and until he met Virgil and began to work even more elaborate schemes, he thought there wasn’t even a chance his ambition could be satisfied.

Virgil nodded. “Nice to work alone with you.”

There was a not-entirely serious lilt to his voice, and it quietened something inside Declyn. He gave Virgil a cordial nod, also not entirely serious. “Likewise.”

Virgil gave a little evil laugh. “That’s right. You’re stuck with me.” 

  
  



	2. Diamonds

“Virgil, never in my life have I met someone who washes brambles straight off the hedgerow. Please, eat them like a human being.”

Autumn meant walking back to the fires of the city, and walking meant stealing brambles (as Declyn would say) or blackberries (as Virgil insisted they were called) off the hedgerows they passed, along with the apples of any farmer who had let his tree grow too far over his fences.

Virgil plucked another blackberry off the hedgerow and hosed it down with a little stream of water he collected from the moisture in the air. His eyes glowed purple as he used his magic. “You don’t know where this thing has been.”

“On the bloody hedgerow!” Declyn said with a wild gesture at the clean-looking bush. “Where else?” 

“Maybe there are insects in it, or maybe...a mouse has been there, or-”

Delcyn was bickering, but not annoyed. “Sometimes I forget you grew up in the palace, and at times like this-” 

“You say that like I was a prince rather than a child soldier-”

“Child soldier, you’re so dramatic, you were a cadet at best-”

“And, yes, we did wash fruit, so we didn’t get sick-”

“Virgil,” Declyn took a big breath. “Are you completely sure that this innocent little berry, washed by the rains, dried by the suns, is less hygienic than some of the food we get served at the cheaper of the inns?” 

“Look, if an insect gets into a stew at least it’s not alive.” Virgil picked another one and washed it again. “Just let me live, dude.”

Declyn looked at the orange leaves which fell as they did every year, showing the turning of the seasons, the sky cloudy and stretching out to infinity, the dew-drops on a spider’s web which was itself a miracle of nature. Then he decided he was much too petty to let this go. “Of course, there’s nothing more normal than washing your brambles- sorry,  _ blackberries _ -” He picked a ripe one and tossed it upward to catch with his mouth. 

There was a flash as the blackberry disappeared and reappeared in Virgil’s own hand. He carefully hosed it down, eyes glowing with purple in a way Declyn knew was natural but nevertheless decided to read as an insult, and then handed it back to Declyn with a completely shit-eating grin. “Now you’re not gonna get poisoned.” 

Declyn held up a single finger as he gathered his faculties.

Virgil couldn’t help snorting with anticipatory laughter. 

“Never-” Declyn began

“Uh-huh?”

“-so insulted-”

“Oh really?”

“This is an affront, a misuse of your magic-”

“You sound like the leader I had when I was thirteen-”

Out of principle, Declyn threw the blackberry to the side of the road. 

Virgil merely opened a hand and it flew back into it. He began to hose it off again.

“Virgil, not once in my thirty years of life have I felt the need to rinse a piece of fruit. I am not a bloody noble. Outside of the palace, neither drinking water nor food were so abundant.” 

Virgil flicked his eyes over Declyn, to see if he’d gone too far. It wasn’t like tension could build up about their backgrounds with how often they bickered bringing them into it, but there were sensitive parts for both of them. “Give me a bet,” Virgil said.

“Pardon?”

“Give me a bet,” Virgil repeated. “The winner gets the other to eat his way.”

Declyn rolled his eyes. He knew Virgil was placating him, but...he didn’t mind too much. “Fine. The bet is very easy. You find a single insect on a blackberry, and you’re justified.”

“How’d you know I won’t lie to you that I saw one?”

Declyn gave Virgil a look. They both knew Virgil didn’t lie to Declyn. Whether Declyn did to Virgil they were much less sure about - or, Declyn was more unsure than Virgil seemed to be. 

“Fine,” Virgil said. “C’mon you wriggly little motherfuckers...” 

As Virgil poked around the hedgerow, Declyn continued contentedly eating blackberries, happy to pause walking for a short while. He scrunched his eyes and tilted them up into the weakening rays of the autumn sun. 

Five minutes later, Virgil conceded defeat. 

“I win, of course,” Declyn crowed. Even if Virgil had given it to him, victory was still tart and sweet as he popped a blackberry into his mouth. 

Virgil took one of the highest brambles from the hedgerow. With ceremony, he placed it on his tongue. “Well,” he said after it was eaten. “I’m not dead yet.”

“No. I wish we could carry more of these,” Declyn mused. “It would be nice further on down the road…”

Virgil tilted his head as he thought about that. “You got that empty bottle from earlier? The one which had mead in it.”

“Unfortunately I might have possibly sat on my pack when we had lunch and there  _ was _ a rather nasty crunching.” 

Virgil hummed in thought. “Can you give me the pieces?” 

Declyn rooted through his backpack and found the shards at the bottom, which he carefully extracted and put into Virgil’s cupped hands.

After just a moment focusing on the shapes, Virgil’s eyes began to glow as the edges of the glass shards melted and attached, so a crystalline bowl shape was made. “There yo u are.”

It looked almost like the kind of diamond dishes nobles would propose with.

  
“Yes, a thousand times yes!” Declyn said as he took it off Virgil. “Oh, my darling.” 

“What the-” Virgil looked back at the bowl again and his eyes widened in understanding. “Oh!” He laughed. “Only the most expensive things for you.”

“My, it sparkles in the sun like how your eyes look when you hear your favourite edgy songs about ghosts and lost lovers started by a fair performer!” Declyn teased. “It’s almost as cutting as your comments! And it’s so deep-” He flashed Virgil a smile. “It still probably can’t carry as much as those eye bags, though.” 

Virgil rolled his eyes, less into the play-acting. He seemed almost embarrassed. “I thought I’d get you something as genuine as you are.”

Declyn held a hand over his heart. “You say the sweetest things.”

They walked on, filling the makeshift bowl with blackberries- “ _ Brambles,”  _ Declyn corrected.

“It’s my wedding too, I can call them blackberries.”

“If I call you handsome, can I call them brambles?”

Virgil’s cheeks went pink, and Declyn laughed, because he had won - even if he was pretty sure Virgil had still let him.

When they came into town, a group of kids in ragged clothing ran up to see the performers, and they handed over the blackberries as Declyn put on a show with close-up magic and Virgil sat and watched, seeing as he hadn’t had time to go invisible. Declyn drew coins out behind the children’s ears and left them with the kids. It might have to be a night on the grassy verge of the road, but Virgil didn’t think about stopping his partner.

They left the bowl with the kids too.

“It was Virgil’s wedding proposal to me,” Declyn said seriously.

“Really?” A girl tilted her head to look at it and assess it. 

“No,” Declyn said. “It’s just glass, but don’t say that to whoever you sell it to. Besides, Virgil and I...” He met Virgil’s eyes. He’d been about to make a jab about how different they were, but that didn’t feel true. Maybe lying to Virgil was only hard when it hurt him. “When the time comes, Virgil will know when I’m proposing.”

“I’ll know when you con someone out of their dish and I help get it off them in plain sight,” Virgil joked, and warmth flooded Declyn’s chest. He’d kept his friend happy, and all was well in the world. 

“You’re no good at sleight of hand,” Declyn said as if in answer to a question a few exchanges later. 

The little girl wandered off, uninterested now that she had the dish. 

“I don’t need it, I have actual magic,” Virgil replied.

“And you give yourself away so obviously!” Declyn said. “If it’s something like today and you can’t go invisible, you should still help.” He drew his cards out of their inside pocket of his cloak. “Come, I should teach you.” 

“Oh yeah?”

With a flick of his wrist, Declyn drew a card out of his sleeve. “This one is child’s play. Come on, at least try.”

Virgil laughed through his nose. “Only because it would piss everyone else off back home.”

  
  



	3. Spades

It was the first snowy day of a crisp winter. As they walked in the icy cold, Declyn had teased Virgil about his cosy palace upbringing (that many mages could build crazily efficient central heating) all the way into town, and completely missed the purple flicker in Virgil’s eyes which preceded a pile of snow sliding down a rooftop and landing directly on top of him. 

Declyn toppled over. The uncomfortably wet and unbearably cold sensation of snow soaking into every part of his being caused him to shriek in mild shock and not-so-mild irritation as Virgil laughed so hard he fell into the snow himself.

“And you-” Virgil was almost breathless. “You just-” He cackled. “Serves you right-” The way he laughed was bubbling and open, like a child-  _ ha ha ha ha!  _

A sharp spike of something went through Declyn at the sight of Virgil, red-cheeked and eyes crinkled as he laughed in whooping bursts. He decided the spike was  _ definitely  _ a need for revenge. “Oh, Virgil!” He called in a sing-song voice. “I shall of course forgive this-” As soon as he had his friend’s attention he gathered up a pile of snow and lunged for Virgil’s neck. Virgil rolled out of the way at the last moment, flicking snow at Declyn. Not to be outdone, Declyn feinted right before darting his hand over Virgil’s wrist and using his knee to pin him down. He gathered a handful of snow and held it over Virgil’s face in triumph. “Any last words?” 

Virgil’s chest kicked beneath Declyn and at that and his wide-eyed expression he let go immediately. “Too much?”

Virgil nodded, closing his eyes for a brief moment and pushing himself up. “Give me a moment, then I’ll utterly destroy you in a snowball fight.”

For a few moments, Declyn sat shivering as Virgil composed himself and watched the slow rise and fall of his chest. Then he leapt to his feet with a wicked grin. “Ten seconds to prepare, then we go?” 

Declyn matched Virgil’s expression. “Prepare to be  _ decimated. _ ” 

*

When they tumbled into the inn, both were soaked and shivering. Virgil looked embarrassed to come into the building that way, but Declyn was riding high on his victory and came to the counter without a shred of shame at the snowmelt he was trailing over the entrance. 

“A room for two, please.” It was cheaper than two singles. 

The innkeeper gave the two of them a searching look. “That’s seven fiebri, three more for breakfast, and we only have ones with one bed left.” 

“That’s quite alright.” It happened sometimes, and they were happy to just stick to their own sides. 

The room was small and plain, but it had a lock to protect their possessions and a bed, and that was all they needed. They dumped their soaked packs by the fire in the hope they might dry by morning, then kicked off their damp clothes and pulled on new ones, playing over the highlights of their match, and deciding they were too tired for dinner. 

It was very cold, as night fell, and Delcyn teased Virgil by putting his cold feet on his back, which resulted in Virgil heating himself up so quickly that Delcyn pulled his foot away with a yelp. They fell asleep quickly, exhausted by the walking and snowball fight that day. 

*

Declyn woke up to Virgil cuddled into his side. He was soft, and warm. His breath whistled through his nose as he slept and Declyn was going to have a heart attack. It  _ hurt _ to be so close. All of it hurt: the way the morning light drifted across Virgil’s hair, rumpled and a little greasy from travel and completely out of bounds for Declyn to touch, how defenseless Virgil was, the warmth pressed steady to his side, the scent of soap and smoke- the curve of Virgil’s cheek, how it had softened since he left the army, even his bloody eye bags which didn’t disappear after hours of rest-

Declyn could read cards and other people, nothing else. This pain was a foreigner in his body; he couldn’t translate what it was telling him. It was just Virgil.

Was he angry at Virgil? No. No, that felt all wrong. Jealous? Grieving? No, Virgil wasn’t going anywhere.  _ You’re stuck with me. _

They were stuck together, weren’t they? This was...it, now.

Declyn and Virgil. The same scam, the same routine, the same banter, the same understanding, the same room every night. To his horror, heat prickled at the corner of his eyes. That sounded perfect. 

Scrunching his eyes shut to try and squeeze the tears away, he instead sent one rolling down his cheek and onto Virgil’s.

“-fucking inn-keeper,” Virgil growled without opening his eyes. His voice was rough with sleep and to hear the normal rasp of it from him now, with the foreign aching beating at Declyn’s breastbone like a second heart, was cataclysmic. 

Suppressed sobs were tremors, tears flooded his eyes, and the  _ wanting wanting wanting  _ Virgil usually quieted in him was back, but as something entirely different. He wanted Virgil to be awake, and with him, and at the same time he couldn’t bear for him to see. 

Naturally, Virgil woke at Declyn's slight shaking beside him. "Dec?" his eyes blinked open. "Oh, fuck, I..." He scrambled back to the corner of the bed, trying to give Declyn as much space as possible. "I'm so sorry, I was asleep, I swear. Maybe you can try and breathe with me-"

Declyn didn't know what to do. He threw Virgil's pillow at him. "I'm not panicking, you fool."

"...you kind of seem like you are, dude." Virgil got off the bed fully, edging towards the door. "Do you want space? I can hang out downstairs, give you time-"

At that, Declyn's sobs only increased.

"What- what is the matter, then?" He was panicking, and it was so like him, Declyn thought, and-

Declyn had never called a spade a spade if he could call it an ‘digging implement with exciting capabilities never seen before- you could even carry it by the handle!’ and sell it for twice the price, but Virgil was adamant about not letting Declyn even subtly convince or manipulate him. Besides, his words felt inadequate and flimsy. There was no dignified way to ask for what he wanted. 

“Come cuddle me, you dumb fuck,” Declyn sobbed.

Virgil’s eyes widened and he came back to bed, laying down besides Declyn. “Geez, they don't say you're silver-tongued and cold-hearted for nothing,” he grumbled. But he scooted up to Declyn and wrapped his arms back around him gently.

Declyn buried his face in the crook of Virgil’s neck, curling his arms in front of him as he squished against Virgil’s chest.

Virgil didn’t ask what was up, even though this was hugely out of character. He just held Declyn close and rubbed his back occasionally.

Needing to be close, not knowing why, Declyn wiggled his ankle between Virgil’s and in response Virgil tangled their legs together.

Virgil breathed deeply, already sounding like he was half back to sleep.

Declyn let their chests move together. He could feel Virgil’s heartbeat.

After some time, Declyn’s sobs tailed off but he didn’t want to let go. Still, he should compose himself, put himself back together, all of that…

But he didn't. Around them, the sound of people clattering around to get out of their rooms came through the thin wall, there was a distant crash, a shouted disagreement. They made the moment better, because they made it real. Declyn felt a puff of air in his hair as Virgil slid back into sleep, and he let his own eyes flutter shut. Just a few more minutes of this and they'd be on the road....

And so, Declyn drifted back off into sleep in the arms of his partner.

They woke up late, ran a game involving Virgil vanishing and reappearing dice, then walked to the next village, all without discussing it. That night- 

“Single or double bed?” Another bored innkeeper, almost indistinguishable from the one in the last town.

Declyn grinned at his friend. “Still feeling cuddly, Virge?”

  
“Oh, I think a little birdie told me the answer-” In the same elaborate gesture as Declyn used to reveal the products of his close-up illusion, Virgil flipped his partner in crime off.

“Shame, really. You do run like a furnace. All that luxurious heat as a child must have soaked into your skin-” 

“-and they say the streets of your city are covered in shit.”

The innkeeper was singularly unimpressed at their snarking. “One or two?”

Virgil shrugged. “Guess I’ll have to take pity on Declyn’s cold-bloodedness and say one.”

In a worldless negotiation of eyes and limbs, they found themselves tangled together before they drifted off that night. 

Since it was winter, they said a week later, this new arrangement was sensible.

As the buds began to bloom into spring, it didn’t change. 


	4. Hearts

It was a hot afternoon, pregnant and storm-heavy, the kind of sky which made Declyn ache in wanting. Spring was ending, and endings made him antsy. Time to go, to move, to do...but they’d eaten their lunch in the shade of an oak tree and the light was dappling Virgil’s face, and the wanting stilled into restless playfulness.

“Come on, Virgil, indulge me and guess the top card of this pile.” Declyn shook the pack at him. “It’s brand new.”

“I literally saw you cut it open and remelt the seal yesterday,” Virgil said. 

“Details, details,” Declyn dismissed with a wave of his hand. “Come on, do guess. No magic.”

Virgil stuck his tongue out at Declyn, but took the pack of cards and turned them over in his hands. “Uh...well, you said that people usually go for the picture cards, so it’s better to pick a number card. But then, you know I know that, so you might just pick a picture card, if this was for me and not someone else…”

Declyn didn’t reveal anything, putting on a very impressive poker face as he watched Virgil’s lashes tilt downwards as he looked down at the cards. Virgil cut him a searching look. 

“Oh…” Virgil said, his face glowing more red than gold despite the yellow light. 

Declyn raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Virgil ran a finger over the seam of the cards, eyes glowing purple as he disappeared the wax effortlessly. “Ace of hearts,” he said simply. He tipped out the pack to reveal, as he’d said, the ace of hearts on the top of the pile. “Is this your card?”

“It is indeed,” Declyn said. “I’m impressed.” 

Virgil gave him another untranslatable look. He flicked his wrist, and Declyn was looking in his eyes as the card disappeared, so he saw there was no real magic used. Sleight of hand.

Declyn raised an eyebrow. “Do you think you can surprise me without your magic?” But his voice was approving, and suggested he would very much like to be surprised. 

At that, whatever the look was intensified, Virgil’s mouth setting in a competitive quirk. He shifted closer to Declyn. He put his hand into the pocket over Declyn’s chest, and from it pulled- “Is this your heart?” 

“Card,” Declyn corrected quietly. The brush of Virgil’s fingers still burned warm against his chest.

“I know what I said,” Virgil said. He was more hesitant, his eyes shifting as they searched Declyn’s own. Looking for something. Scared, but not backing away. A flush rising in his cheeks. 

What was Declyn’s heart? Frozen solid, a shouting foreigner, a traitor which now flooded his own face with colour? 

Slowly, he reached out to push Virgil’s hand holding the card against Virgil’s own heart. He moved their hands again, to feel the fluttering of Virgil’s chest. Last night, his head had risen and fell as it laid on Virgil’s steady breathing. His lips parted. Words, however, had deserted him. 

His eyes met Virgil’s again, and there was no beating in his own chest, even as Virgil’s heart thudded against his fingers. He recognised that foreign rhythm from inside himself, from the first night of snow. “Virgil,” he said distantly.

“Yes?”

“Virgil, how long have we loved each other?” 

Virgil’s eyes widened. “Both of us?”

Declyn nodded.

“I- I loved you- shit, Dec, I don’t know. I just- I guess I thought about it dicking around with the bowl. When you got all excited about teaching me card tricks after. I dunno if it was before, or after, but around- around then.” Virgil was beginning to tear up. “Do you-?”

“I don’t know,” Declyn said. “I didn’t know. But I think-” He moved one hand from Virgil’s chest to clumsily wipe at his tears. “I think, yes. I do. For a long time, now.” 

“Then come kiss me, oblivious,” Virgil said gruffly, a little choked-up. 

Declyn leaned in without thinking more.

It was  _ Virgil.  _ The scent of soap and smoke. A quirk at the corner of his mouth he couldn’t control. Steady pressure, warm and soft. He made sense. He was real. The kiss was not everything Declyn had imagined - Declyn had been too stupid to imagine, too scared, maybe- 

But had he tried to imagine, this was nothing he could pretend. 

When they pulled away both of their faces were tear-tracked. “Absolutely no-one else can know we both cried like this,” Virgil said with a wet laugh. 

“And no-one will,” Declyn said, wiping at his own eyes. “Your secret is safe with me.” 

In the distance, the sky broke into rain. They could see the curtain of it hanging over the mountains, grey and misting. The air began to cool, even as far away as they were, and the golden light sharpened as if reflected off glass. It was the kind of weather which made Declyn curl up against Virgil’s side, letting his partner card his hand through his hair. Tension eased from the air, shivering the leaves above as it drained away into swirling breezes. The land rolled endless away from them, with its skeins of roads unravelling into the distance. They had travelled so many of them this spring, but the playful light made them look new once more. As always, the roads tugged a place inside Declyn he didn’t think would ever be subdued. That tugging would pull them to new adventures, every day as long as he followed it. For now, it was a sweet ache as they took their unhurried time underneath the oak tree.

They kissed again, long and slow as summer days. It felt a lot like a beginning. 


End file.
